


Seven Prayers to Papa (Because the Boy Never Forgot)

by murielle



Category: The Boy (The Road) by Cormack McCarthy
Genre: Gen, There are other good guys.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murielle/pseuds/murielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone, in shock, the boy goes with the man and the woman and the boy and the girl ....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Prayers to Papa (Because the Boy Never Forgot)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amalcolm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amalcolm/gifts).



Seven Prayers to Papa (Because the Boy Never Forgot)

 

The First Prayer

 

Papa, the woman talks a lot.

She is kind and warm. Her hands are rough, but they are gentle. Sometimes at night when I miss you most she holds me and sings to me. She sings songs you never sang, but her voice is pretty and soft and I can fall asleep. She talks about before, the way you sometimes did. I told her I don’t like it, but she says we need to remember. She says we need to learn from our mistakes. What does that mean, Papa? What mistakes? Did I make mistakes? Does she mean the time I didn’t shut the valve on the tank? Is that what she means, Papa?

The man is quiet. He doesn’t talk about before.

We move at first light and travel single file. That is a thing he taught me. We don’t walk together, but one in front and the rest behind. The man always goes first, then the boy, then me, then the girl, then the woman, one after the other, in a single line. The dog goes with the man unless he tells him to stay. We don’t talk when we walk. Not even the woman. The man showed me signals. There is a signal for walk and one for stop and one for lie still on the ground and one for take cover. First the man makes the signal to the boy. The boy makes the signal to me and I make the signal to the girl and she makes the signal to the woman. We must pay attention all the time.

We don’t walk on the roads, Papa. We never walk on the roads. We walk where we can see the roads, but where we can’t be seen. It’s important, Papa, the man says it is so. We cover our tracks. We keep quiet and cover our tracks so no one can follow us. The man says we have a long way to go.

When we come to a place, the man and the dog go first, I stay behind with the boy and the girl and the woman, flat on the ground, or behind the trees, or in a deep ditch. Sometimes the man signals for the woman to come and we have to hide and stay very, very still until they come for us again. We must be still and quiet and not fall asleep. We must never fall asleep when we are hiding. The boy watches and listens until the man and the woman come. I watch too. The girl is little, but she watches as well. We watch for the man or the woman to come back.

The man and the woman find things, blankets, or cans of food. Sometimes, if there is a lot, they mark the place for later. The man says we should only take what we can carry and we should never take more than we need. I don’t understand, Papa. What if we need more? What if we can’t find more, Papa? It makes me afraid when he says that.

The woman showed me the seeds she finds and keeps. She shows me little packets that she keeps rolled up in her pack. There are pictures of vegetables and fruit that comes in cans on the packets. She says that when the earth is good again and when the sun is warm and bright they will plant them and we will have fresh food. I don’t understand fresh food. I don’t understand the sun, warm and bright. I look at the sky, Papa, but I don’t see the sun, only the dark clouds full of rain and snow and dirt. I don’t understand seeds.

The woman keeps other things. She keeps mushrooms. When she finds them, she takes them up with the soil around and under them and she puts them in a moist cloth and tucks them away in her pack. She says she will show me what she does with them when we get home. Papa what is home?

The boy told me we are going to a place where there are others like us. Papa, there are other good guys. I asked him, what other good guys? He says, same as us.

Do they have the fire?

We all have fire.

No. Do they have the fire inside?

The boy looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.

Do they have the fire inside? Here? I showed him.

He shook his head at me.

Later, I asked the man.

Yes. They have the fire.

Are they the same as us?

Some are older.

Old?

Yes.

Very old?

Some are, yes.

And you don’t send them away?

No.

Why?

Because they teach us things and help us.

Do you have enough food to share with them?

Yes. They help us to make food and to grow food.

You grow food?

Mushrooms and other fungi. The old ones taught us how to find them and to grow them. They remember things we never knew. They are important to our survival, to our future.

And you never send them away?

No.

What happens to them?

Sometimes they get old and sick and then they die.

But you don’t send them away.

No. We never send them away.

Do you have an old man called Ely?

No. I don’t think so.

Okay.

 

The Second Prayer

 

Oh, Papa, there are good guys. The man and the woman know them. I know some of them, too. They are kind and good and they don’t eat people. They live in the valleys, deep between the mountains where no one comes looking for people to eat or to steal your stuff. They work together and they help each other and they share. They clear the land of fallen trees and they help each other build shelters deep in the brush where they can’t be seen. We don’t have to walk anymore, Papa. We can stay.

Papa, this is home.

 

The Third Prayer

 

Today the woman cried, Papa. It is time for the boy to go with the men when they scout for food and tools, things we need. It is the first time he will go with them, and the woman cried. I held her hand, Papa. It will be time for me to go with them soon, too. Maybe next time I will go with them, maybe the time after that, but soon. It is what the men do, when they are not clearing deadfall, or building shelter. They go back to all the places where they have found food and tools, or to the places where they hid them and they bring them back to home. It is hard work, and it is dangerous. Sometimes they get hurt, or sometimes they get killed. Sometimes they find people. Like they found me, Papa. And they bring them back, too.

They will take a dog. Not their dog. That dog is too old now. The woman is glad of it, she told me.

This old dog will stay with me and with you children. He is not too old to guard our home.

What will happen when he gets too old to guard home?

He will sleep by the fire until he dies.

When will he die?

Not for a while.

She pats the dog and he whimpers as the men and the boy go off into the mountains.

No. No. Let the young mutt go with them. You stay here where it’s warm and safe.

She is crying.

The girl cries, too, but away from her mother. She followed the men to the edge of the forest, almost to the river, and then she returned and sits alone, crying for the men and for her brother. I watch her. I don’t know what to say. She is so quiet and sometimes when I watch her I want to tell her about you and about Mother and about the old man on the road. I want to tell her about the colors we saw at the waterfall, but I don’t have the words, so I just watch her.

I used to talk to her, but she is quiet around me now and I am quiet too. She is different somehow. The woman smiles at me when she sees me watching the girl, but she doesn’t say anything.

Now that the man and the boy are away, the girl will sleep on the pallet with the woman. I will sleep on the other pallet, the one where the boy and the girl and I used to sleep together, but now the man and the boy are gone and the girl will sleep with her mother and I will sleep alone. Papa, I don’t like to sleep alone. I am afraid in the dark. I remember things when I sleep, bad things, and I am afraid when I wake up and there is no one beside me.

I miss the boy and the man. The woman said they might be gone a long time. She said it is called a right of passage. I don’t understand this right of passage. She said the boy must prove himself by going with the man before he can take his place with the men. Papa, I will have to go on this right of passage soon, too. Will I be a man then, Papa?

I work with the older men and the young boys, like me, helping with the deadfall and the dam we are building so we don’t have to go so far for water. We carry water to the shelters for the women in the morning and we work in the fields until it starts to get dark.

I like to work, Papa.

There are some old men here, old men like Ely. They help with the work and they know things, Papa. The old men make snow shoes so we can walk in the mountains in the winter. They fix things that are broken and they know so many things. Things like growing the mushrooms in a dark, dank—that means damp, Papa—place.

There are some old women, too, Papa. They work with the woman and the girls and teach them how to mend tears in the clothes so they don’t rip more; and how to cut old clothes into ribbons and then weave them together to make new clothes and blankets and rugs for the floors. And the old women know how to make food that tastes good out of roots and mushrooms. They teach the young women how to help with babies when they are being born and they help to look after the babies and the small children so the women can work. Papa the old women know how to wrap the babies in cloths so they don’t cry, and they know what to do when the babies are sick and fret.

The woman says the Olders are a blessing. They are not strong like the young men and women, but they are tough and they have knowledge.

Do you think Ely had knowledge, Papa?

When the boy comes back he will live in another shelter. There are older boys in that shelter and they work together in the fields and patrol the valley and the mountains. There is a girl from another shelter that he likes and she likes him. The woman said they will need a shelter of their own soon. She smiles when she talks about this. She thinks I don’t understand, but I do.

Papa I understand. I like the girl. I would like to have a shelter with the girl.

 

The Fourth Prayer

 

A bad thing happened, Papa. A man and a woman the men were bringing to live in the valley with us were killed in a landslide. They had three children. One of the children died. The other children came to the valley to live with us. There was a baby boy who went to live with the boy and his woman. She had just had a baby that died, so she could feed the new baby and they will raise it, and it will be theirs. The little girl came to live in our shelter. The woman said she is so happy because she always wanted to have two daughters and two sons, and now she has them. The little girl cries a lot. The girl likes to hold her and play with her.

Sometimes when the girl is holding the little girl she will look at me and smile and laugh. I don’t like when she does that. Sometimes when she is with the other girls she will look at me and they will all laugh. I don’t like it at all when she does that.

Papa, I don’t understand girls.

 

The Fifth Prayer

 

Papa, I am going with the men to find food and other things. We will leave with the first light. I am excited because it means I will be a man when I come back, but I am afraid because sometimes the men and the boys don’t all come back. Sometimes they die, or they are hurt and can’t work the way they used to.

Yesterday when I was getting my pack ready for the journey with the men the girl came up to me. She was smiling, but she was sort of laughing too.

What do you want?

She held out her hands. She was holding a blanket.

I have a blanket, I told her.

Open it.

It was a shirt, Papa. I held it up to me and looked at her.

Is this for me?

Yes. I made it for you. Do you remember it?

I looked at it hard, and then I remembered. The shirt was made from one of the blankets the man took when he found me on the road.

I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t want her to see me cry, even though she has seen me cry before. But I was little, then.

Do you like it?

Yes.

Will you wear it?

Yes.

I put the shirt on over my other shirts.

No. Put it on under your other shirts.

So, I took my other shirts off and put it on next to my skin and she nodded and smiled.

When you wear it will you remember me?

Yes.

When you come back will you bring me something?

What?

I don’t know, something nice. The boys do that when they like a girl. Will you do that?

Okay.

Do the other girls make shirts for the boys when they go on the journey?

I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.

Then why did you make me a shirt?

She didn’t say anything but her face got all red, Papa. And I could feel my face getting red too. My throat felt dry and I wanted to tell her all kinds of things but I couldn’t. I don’t know why.

I will bring you something, just for you, when I come back.

The girl put her arms around me and hugged me tight and she whispered in my ear.

Papa, I love the girl.

Today I went to the woman and told her that when I come back I want to build a shelter for the girl and for me. I want the girl to be my wife. The woman said she hoped I would say that and she hugged me. She told me to come home soon and to take care of myself. Papa, she was crying. She cried like when the boy went.

 

The Sixth Prayer

 

Papa, it will be winter soon so we need to get back to the valley. The boy and the man are with me. The man is hurt. His ankle is broken and his arm is broken.

We reached a small village on the south of the foothills. There were people there. They were good guys, Papa. They had food and gave all of us shelter for the night. The men were talking about things and people we met on our way. The village had all kinds of people, just like we do and they were happy and we were singing and dancing. Some of the boys went to lie with the girls. Nobody minded because they want babies. I didn’t go. I didn’t want those girls. I want only to lie with the girl back home. We have our own shelter now and she was big with my child when we left this time.

Some of the older men were talking about a mine in the hillside and how they could get the coal from the mine and use it for fire in the winter. Some of the men from our valley wanted to get some, too. The man said we shouldn’t go, it might not be safe. But those men wanted to go, so when it got light they went. Only some of them.

The men from the village made torches out of old cloths and some oil and they started to go down into the mine.

We were standing not too far into the cave when we heard a loud rumbling sound and the man shouted, “Run!”

We were all running as fast as we could but then the rumbling turned into crashing and banging and the man fell down and he cried out. The boy and I were ahead of him but we went back and got him and carried him. His shirtsleeve was all bloodied and his foot was turned backward. There were tears on his face, Papa.

The men and women from the village came running up to the mine. They heard the rumbling. Some of them were angry and said now they wouldn’t have coal for the winter, but the older men told them to be quiet. There was plenty of coal for everybody.

They helped us to dig through the rubble and the big rocks and boards until we got all the men out and they helped us to carry the men who were hurt and the men who were dead. We lost three men, Papa. Good men, men who had women and families back home. Some of the men were too hurt to travel. The village men said that they could stay the winter with them, but in the spring they could go home, or they could bring their families and live in the village. The men agreed it was good.

But the man and the boy and I are going home. We are going back to the valley with only half of the men and boys who came with us. It will be hard because we must first climb the mountain and then go down into the valley. It will take a long time, but we will stay off the roads and we will cover our tracks and the boy and I will take turns pulling the travois that the Olders of the village made for us.

The man is in a lot of pain, Papa. He doesn’t cry out. He has a rag that he puts in his mouth and he bites on when the pain is too bad. Sometimes he sleeps. The boy says it’s better when he sleeps. I can see that the boy is afraid. Papa I am afraid too. I love the man, Papa. Not as much as I love you, but I love him. He is a good guy and he carries the fire. And he taught me that it’s not enough just to carry the fire but we need to share it, too.

 

The Seventh Prayer

 

Papa, today I am a man. I have a shelter and the girl is my wife.

The man died last winter, and so the woman lives with us. The little girl went to the village to marry with one of the boys who lived there when he came over the mountain to trade with us last spring. The boy is one of the leaders of the men who go out beyond the valley to find things, though they don’t go as often as they used to. We have trade with the village and we have trade with some others who live farther down the valley on the other side of the river. He and his woman have three children now, two girls and the boy whose parents died in the landslide. His woman had three other babies but they died. This still happens, but more live and soon many more will live.

Papa, I have a son. He is strong and he smells of the valley. He is like you, I think. His eyes are Mother’s color, but his mouth is your mouth and his hair is your color.

I am like you, Papa. I am a Papa.

 

(Not) The End


End file.
